Price Tag: The Relentless
by avatarjk137
Summary: A band of superpowered refugees, led by Beast Boy, are trying to dodge swarms of bounty hunters spawned by a law requiring arrest of all super individuals. One hunter in particular may be more than they can handle... part of the Price Tag collab series.


**Welcome to my new Price Tag fic, the fifth in the Price Tag series, The Relentless.** **It's a predominantly cartoon crossover, set in a universe created by the esteemed Yellowfur. You'll see mostly western animation characters, with other fandoms thrown in; Price Tag is a continuing series about superpowered individuals and the bounty hunters after them, and you can check out its official forum here: .net/forum/The_Price_Tag_Collaboration/55203/**

**This particular fic is about a band of superpowered refugees on a mission to simply get out of danger. Oh, and they're chased by bounty hunters. Well, one bounty hunter, mostly. I'm sure you'll love it!**

**I do not own any of the characters mentioned here. Nor do I own the fictional city. All I own are the contents of this story.**

**Price Tag: The Relentless**

**Chapter 1**

**Eat Dog**

The thing Yumi hated most about this city was the air. Like most big cities, it never seemed to properly cool down on summer nights – it was still warm, even with the clocks chiming one in the morning. Like most big cities, the warmth was accompanied with a sort of choking stuffiness – not exactly a humidity, but almost as if the air just simply didn't contain enough oxygen. Unlike most cities, the air smelled like blood. Blood. All the _fucking time._ She had a theory that the government pumped animal blood through the sewers every few days just to keep that smell wafting around, because even with the bounty hunting, there couldn't be that much violence… could there?

She sighed and brushed her indigo hair back. "Look," she said to the other hunters gathered in front of her. "All I'm saying is, we scoped these guys out first, we should get a cut of the kill."

"Not on your life, little girl." The misogynistic bastard who had said this was a Huntsclan grunt. The Huntsclan were one of the two large, sprawling bounty hunting organizations left in the city – the other being the even larger and more shadowy Baroque Works, who officially denied their own existence. The Huntsclan was less tactful. A racist, almost Neo-Nazi group that mostly went after the really inhuman-looking bounties, they were easily identifiable by their outfits – a sort of maroon-magenta wannabe ninja getup with bright red stylized 'H's. Yumi thought it was about the tackiest thing she had ever seen, but their tech was pretty impressive – weird blue medieval-style weapons that shot plasma, nets, and all kinds of crap. Although only their clan leader had a full dragon skull, the guy in charge of this individual raiding party seemed to have earned a few skull fragments to adorn his mask.

"I have an idea." This guy, Yumi didn't remember off the top of her head. Train something? Train wreck (that was what she had decided in her mind to call him) had a bedheady mop of two-tone hair and a playful cat-like smile. He wore casual clothing, although his blue short jacket was really weird – it had two HUGE buttons on each side that almost looked like donuts. Also, he had a collar with a small bell around his neck, and these accessories were distracting Yumi so much that she almost didn't notice the really fancy, ornate pistol he was holding. It had 'thirteen' in Roman numerals etched onto the side. Huh, now that she thought about it, his shirt collar was open far enough to show an identical tattoo on his chest – a running theme? Anyway, he had brought a friend with a suitcase. The friend was taller, quieter, and a much sharper dresser – a white suit with a matching fedora that he wore neatly over his mint-green hair. He had an eyepatch over his right eye – which Yumi thought was cool – and he smoked – which she thought was less cool. His remaining eye, which was hazel, just glared up at the building. "How about whoever captures the most people gets to walk away with all the money?" he finally said, jarring Yumi back into reality.

"Better idea. We blow up the building. Nobody else is in there, right?" The last group of bounty hunters that had arrived was really just a bunch of kids – kids in Halloween costumes, no less. The speaker, and apparently the leader of the group, wore a jawless, gnarled skull mask that covered his whole face, and otherwise sported normal clothing, a scarf, and a shock of red hair. Behind him, and blatantly staring at Ami and Yumi's chests (such as they were), was a taller boy wearing a full-body cat or tiger costume with a hood. It left his hands and face bare, but he also wore an orange mask that only covered his eyes. The shortest of the group's only costume was a plaster pig head (wearing a plaster bowler hat) that covered his whole face, only his eyes visible inside the pig's mouth. The last, and the tallest, wore a grinning, mischievous demon's mask that hid his face, along with a red hoodie that hid the rest of his head. Skull Boy carried a crowbar, and the rest had baseball bats; Pig Boy also had a bag of something.

"You kids must be new at this," Yumi chuckled. "Ami, inform them why we don't just kill indiscriminately." Skull Boy's eyes narrowed at Yumi's condescending tone, while Pig Boy's eyes widened in genuine confusion and Cat Boy's eyes… stayed focused on her chest. Little bastard. Devil Boy's eyes, of course, were hidden, as he saw through round yellow lenses on the mask.

"Well, first, for most of the bounties, the government would rather have them alive than dead, so for anybody under ten million or otherwise specially marked, you only get half the bounty if they're dead. Second, even if they ARE dead, we need to produce a body. If we drop the building down on them – which I hope you'd be able to, since even these Huntsgoons don't carry anything more splash-damagey than incendiary grenades – we'd have a tough time finding the bodies, and if we did, they may be too damaged to identify. That explain things for you, little boy?"

"Yeah, I'm clear," Skull Boy grumbled. "Also, it's Finch. Not 'kid', and certainly not 'little fucking boy.'"

"Jeez, language," Ami said, putting her hands up placatingly. "Look, how about we each get all we can, and just split it four ways at the end of the day?"

"That doesn't take into account who provided the most manpower," the Huntsclan squad leader frowned. "It should be divided by hunter."

"That doesn't take _skill _into account," Train complained, his voice taking on a childish tone.

"Look!" Train's partner yelled. "It's so easy, and you're all missing it. We each walk away with whoever we capture or kill. Every team for themselves! Okay?" There was a round of grumbles that amounted to grudging consent. "Okay. Train, they've barricaded the doors. Help me kick them down. Everybody else, pick a different entrance."

"Coming, Sven!" Train began walking backwards toward the side entrance Sven had found, saluting Yumi and the others with his gun. "To the victors go the spoils," he said with his playful smile.

The Huntsclanner scoffed. "Come, men. Let's find the front entrance!" he lead them around one way, while the trick-or-treaters ambled around the other direction.

Yumi crossed her arms for a moment before uncrossing them to check that her pistol was in order. "Come on, Ami, we're going in after these two boys. We'll take the other path on the first fork."

The pink-haired girl already had her weapon ready. "Yeah…. Yumi?"

"Yes, Ami?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this one."

"I thought I did, too, but it turns out I'm just hungry."

---

A tall, Hispanic man with his hair covering his eyes gazed out from between boarded-up windows. "They're coming in."

"Gee, thanks," a yellow-furred, chubby creature with opaque black eyes and two flat teeth hanging over his lower lip snapped. "Say, what's your charge for _stating the obvious?_ If you only talk once an hour or so, at least say something meaningful." Chad just frowned at him. "Oh, stop giving me the Bambi no-eyes and have a sandwich. I've got marshmallow fluff and peanut butter!"

Beast Boy sighed. He didn't want to fight these people. These bounty hunters were, for the most part, decent types who just wanted some excitement. _Okay, BB, now isn't the time for regrets. Now's the time to focus and act like the leader you know you are. Review the situation, and think quick._ Let's see… they were holed up in a four-story office block. The stairway to roof access was destroyed, and there was no power to the elevators. The last occupant of the building had been politely insane enough to leave a small truckload of dynamite just lying around, so they had set it all up around the central elevators. If they needed to, they could blow the place down. They couldn't just defend the central location; the floor planning didn't give anywhere good to defend. They'd just have to try and drive the hunters off at the first two floors.

"Chad, head for the northwest stairwell and cover it." The Mexican nodded, his right arm glowing as he left the room.

A girl shorter than Beast Boy with blue-black hair and a purple-centric, Gothic outfit headed out the same door. "I'll cover the stairwell's other side," she said in a hard British accent.

"Where is Terra?" a small, bald Asian boy asked worriedly. He wore a red, black, and tan gi and had long, dark eyebrows.

"She's in the lobby," Beast Boy replied evenly. "That's the only place with enough earth for her powers to be useful." He tried to keep his own worry out of his voice. He was finally together with Terra; the last thing he wanted was for the two of them to keep putting themselves in danger. "Speaking of which… Omi, take Reuben down the east stairwell and cover that."

"But, he is not Omi. I am Omi." Beast Boy turned around, and behind him was… Omi, who he had thought he was just talking to.

The first Omi jumped over to the second. "No, _I _am Omi! Stop copying me!"

"No! You cease mimicking me!"

"Whatever!" Beast Boy yelled, startling even himself. "I don't care which of you is Omi! Both of you cover the east, and take Reuben with you! I'm going into the pipes, to get behind them and flank somebody!" With one last groan, he turned into a snake and crawled into a section of peeled-up floor panels that exposed a series of pipes.

One of the Omis turned to the other. "That was a very good impersonation of myself. How do you do it?"

"I absolutely stop looking inward, and just look at others," the second said, discarding Omi's speech patterns but not his voice. "You should try it some time."

---

"Come on, Kitty, let's go," Finch muttered. "We're gonna miss out, at this rate!" He encountered wooden boards across a stairwell, and with a shrug, used his crowbar to pry away the bottom board, which he crawled under. "You're slowing us down."

"Yeah," the demon-masked kid agreed. "Usually, that's Pig Pig's job."

"Hey!" Pig Pig yelled, his pig head stuck between the next bottom board and the floor. "You guys have me carrying the apples, and I'm the smallest!"

"We can't help it if you're lame, Pig Pig," Finch muttered, pulling Pig Pig through. "Mr. Kitty should know better, though."

"Dude, this night's been a bummer so far," Mr. Kitty complained as he crawled through the gap. "Those other hunters yell at us, they act like we're dead weight because we're young, and to top it all off, those chicks were like ironing boards! I kept on wishing, but alas, no tits to speak of no matter how hard I looked!"

"Shut up," demon-mask replied eloquently.

"Devil Lad's right, Mr. Kitty," Finch said as he peeked around a doorway that had, until recently, held a door. "Besides, maybe if you work for it, you can take a hostage with some boob and – MOTHERF-GAH!" He dove out of the way as a barrel rolled down the stairs towards him. The barrel hit the wall and burst open – spilling salted fish all over the floor.

"What the hell is this?" Devil Lad asked bemusedly. "Donkey Kong by the pier?"

"I don't want to hurt kids, but if you guys keep trying to get up here, then I'll just keep throwing barrels down." Chad had gathered at least a dozen barrels at the 2.5 floor landing, where he now stood, and another dozen at the landing above it. "And if you get past the barrels, well, I guess I'll just have to throw you." Chad's right arm had taken on an armored appearance, changing to striped black, white, and red with strange fins on the shoulder and forearm. "You don't want me to throw you."

"So, this immigrant superfreak thinks he can play Donkey Kong with us to keep us down?!" Pig Pig yelled. "Fuck that, man!"

"I agree," Finch said calmly.

"You… you do?"

"Yeah. Pig Pig, apple me."

"Razorblades?"

"What are you, retarded? Grenade!"

"…'kay." Pig Pig took an apple out of the bag and handed it to Finch. Finch pulled out the stem, waited two counts, and threw it. Chad was very confused by the whole affair; it wasn't until four counts that he realized Finch hadn't pulled out a stem, but a pin.

---

"This way," the lead Huntsman pointed, leading his way into the room. The lobby was a huge chamber, taking up the middle of the first two stories with a glass-railed balcony leading around the room and a single stairwell. The chamber's main focus was on a large Zen rock garden that dominated the room, complete with a walkway and a few choice plants. The whole thing thoroughly reeked of California-ism, but then again, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"I don't see any in here, sir," a large, brutish Huntsclanner with a pair of staves voiced.

"Alright, you take some men upstairs. You three, go down the left hallway, and you three, down the right hallway. The rest of you, we're going to comb this room." As his men spread out, checking behind the information desks and under furniture while the others left, he suspiciously eyed the rock garden. Stepping with a series of crunches onto the pebbles, he stabbed his sword down into the rocks.

"You think there might be a super down in the rocks, sir?" a small, squirrelly grunt with a stringless bow asked.

"Who knows how these freaks think?" He stabbed down into the rocks again, but his blade still came up clean. Walking towards the center, he brought his blade up… and a shower of pebbles burst upwards, rocketing him several feet into the air with sheer concussive force.

A girl's head with long blonde hair and blue eyes popped up from about where he was going to stab. "I'm not a freak!" she yelled angrily. "You guys are just special-impaired!" Then she yelped and ducked back under the rocks as an arrow-shaped bolt of plasma buzzed over her head, courtesy of the small grunt with the bow.

"Get that bitch!" he yelled, firing plasma into the garden indiscriminately. The three other Huntsclan grunts, one of whom was on the balcony, began shooting plasma from their staves, bows, and axes as well, the room lighting up with green fire. "Nobody but nobody ambushes the Huntsclan!"

"'Nobody but nobody?'" Terra repeated mockingly. "Witty combat banter clearly wasn't part of the curriculum." Two huge tentacles of gravel rose out of the rock garden, one taking a swipe at an axe-weilder who had gotten too close. He dodged, but tripped over a stylish footstool and hit his head.

The officer was back on his feet, sword in hand. "I want this girl bleeding at my feet in the next five minutes!" He flicked a switch on his sword's pommel, and swung. Instead of shooting fiery green plasma, this time the blade released a dark blue blast that blew apart one of the rock tendrils. "Switch to repulsor rays if your weapons have them!"

---

"I don't –ow!- don't like this plan," Reuben said nervously.

"When we took you in, you agreed to contribute," Omi pointed out.

"I make the food. That's my –ow!- contribution."

"You need to contribute on _and _off the battlefield. Master Fung always said, 'the ant who does the most work sleeps the best'."

"OW! That doesn't even begin to make sense, kid."

"Yes, I admit that one confused me as well. But the point is, if you are not willing to defend us, you don't have to lift a finger. But you _will _defend us, as a pork guard."

"You mean mea –OW! That one really hurt!- meat shield."

"That too." Omi was using Reuben as a human – well, not human, but you get the picture – bulletproof shield to block the bullets from Train and Sven's pistols. This was accomplished by looping a few leather belts under Reuben's arms and holding him up so his back faced Train. Several belts were necessary because if bullets wore through one or more of them, at least one would still be there to keep Reuben from simply falling away and leaving Omi vulnerable. Omi had tried to get closer, hoping to use martial arts, but every time he did a shot would come dangerously close to his feet. One had literally scraped his shoe!

"Where's the other guy dressed like you?"

"He said he was getting a weapon. He may look like me, but he cannot match my Xiaolin skills!"

"I don't –ow!- see you kicking these guys' asses."

"Be quiet now."

Thirty-five feet away at the other end of the hall, Train and Sven had worked out a system. One would fire at a slow, controlled rate, while the other reloaded and got ready. Sven was slowly trying to shoot through all of the belts, but Train (who was more accurate) didn't particularly want to; he'd rather be 'sporting' about it, despite Sven's complaints about bullets costing money.

"His head is wide open," Sven complained. "It's bigger than the yellow dog-thing's. Doesn't the kid get that?"

"I'm not killing anybody anymore," Train said adamantly, shooting Reuben in his stubby tail. "I've killed enough."

"Fine. Couldn't you try to incapacitate the kid with one of those famous ricochet shots of yours?"

"No matter how I do the math, his head gets in my bullet's path! That thing's colossal! It can't be all brain in there, can it?"

Ami walked in with a sigh, followed by a grumbling Yumi. "Nothing in the other hallways. All empty or boarded up!" Yumi griped.

"Hey!" Ami said happily. "There are two here!" She turned to Train. "Unless you two gentlemen have called dibs?" she asked flirtatiously.

"Actually, you two have perfect timing," Train said, getting an idea. "My partner and I will jump over these two little guys, and you guys just need your guns at the ready. If we flank the kid, he can't use that thing as a shield! If you help us with this, we'll give you the smaller of the two bounties!"

"Larger of the two," Yumi argued.

"No deal. It'll work almost as well if just I jump them while Sven stays put."

"Okay, deal."

"That's a good idea there, Train," Sven said, scratching the bit of stubble on his chin. "I'll go first. Ready?"

"Ready."

"GO!" Sven dashed forward, followed by Train, and dove over Omi and Reuben. Sven made the leap, landing at the far end of the hallway. However, when Train was passing over him, Omi suddenly leapt up and crushed Train into the ceiling with his skull, still keeping Reuben between himself and Ami and Yumi's guns.

"I heard everything you said about my head!" Omi yelled angrily as Train crashed to the floor at Sven's feet.

"You okay, man?" Sven asked, dropping his attaché case to pick his partner up off the ground.

"_I want some more milk…"_ Train gurgled out.

"You'll be fi-WHOA!" Sven had to duck out of the way as Omi, still keeping Reuben between himself and Ami, attacked him with a jump kick. "Sorry, girls, I've got to get Train to safety! You're on your own with the lemonhead!" Flipping Train onto one shoulder and putting the handle of his case between his teeth, Sven quickly ducked into the stairwell and slammed the door behind him.

"Asshole…" Yumi sang as she fired a few rounds at Omi, with no effect.

---

A quartet of Huntsclanners, led by the really large one, made their way down the second-floor hallway, breaking into every room they came across. They weren't meeting up with any supers, so they just took any items of value they found. "Bounties become part of company funding," the large one pointed out to them, "but we can keep stuff we find lying around for ourselves." So preoccupied were they with grabbing some speakers, a router and a modem off an abandoned computer workstation that they didn't notice the rattling in the pipes.

Suddenly, one of the pipes burst, and a rapidly expanding green form fell to the floor. "Shit! What the hell is-" the man didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before there was suddenly a bull in the room and his ribcage was pinned crushingly between a pair of horns and a wall. Within a second, the bull was a gorilla and as the first man slumped to the floor, another was grabbed by the throat and thrown right through a flatscreen monitor he had been eyeing.

Roaring, the brute in charge swung a staff and smashed the gorilla across the face with a plasma-enhanced attack. Growling, the gorilla stumbled, but quickly recovered and swung its cantaloupe-sized fists downward in a hammer blow. Crossing his staves over his head, the Huntsclan member blocked the attack but was crushed to the ground anyway. The gorilla ducked a bolt of plasma fired from the bow of the last hunter by turning into a short green humanoid with dark green hair, elfin ears, and a single fang sticking up from his lips. "You know the difference between you guys and bowling pins?" he taunted. "Bowling pins put up more of a fight when you knock 'em down!"

The large man decided it was a good time to show that he was down, but not out by using a staff to sweep Beast Boy off his feet. As soon as Beast Boy hit the floor, however, he shifted into a giant octopus that grabbed the dual-wielder and threw him at the archer. As the two fell to the floor in a pile, the green shapeshifter turned into a hummingbird and flew back into the pipe, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

---

Elsewhere, three Huntsclanners had a sword and two staffs trained on the girl in purple. "Hold your fire!" she pleaded. "I'm unarmed, I'm not going to fight you."

"Damn smart of you," the one on the left said with a smirk visible under his mask. "It's a foolish waste of time to run from the Huntsclan. Or hide. We'll just hunt you down eventually! …Hence the name!"

"Why do we hang out with you?" the other staff-wielder asked him.

"Uurggh… come on!" He beckoned back the way they had come, and the two staff-wielders walked in front. The girl walked behind them, her hands in the air, while the third with the sword walked in back.

"What's your name, little girl?" he asked in a tone of voice which suggested he might rape her, if she didn't behave.

"Tak."

"Tak, huh?" the one in the front who hadn't stumbled over his words took out a Blackberry and began poking at it with his free hand. "Says here you're worth nearly a million. What can you do?"

"I have a cat," she replied calmly. Then she turned around, walking backwards with her hands still up to look at the swordsmen. "A million's a lot, but the Huntsclan splits it so **thin**, don't they? You guys only get a commission, and they **split** it between you, right?"

"Yeah…" he muttered in an I-don't-know-where-you're-going-with-this-but-rape-probably-isn't-involved tone of voice.

"You should make these two…" a blue spark danced in front of Tak's eyes, "…_disappear_. Then you'd get a bigger cut."

"Hey!" the Blackberry user turned around, but it all happened blindingly fast. In a manner of seconds, the swordsmen had cut down both his partners, and they were sinking to the ground in a bloody heap.

"That was _awfully_ naughty of you," Tak said with a sly smile.

And just like that, the sword-swinging Huntsclanner snapped out of it. "There… there's so much _blood_… My God, what have I done?!"

"Nothing you didn't want to on some level," Tak reassured him.

"I… I… Oh, GOD, one of these guys was my best friend!" The Huntsclan member collapsed. "I've known him since kindergarten! I only joined Huntsclan because he was joining too, and I passed up a promotion to stay by his side! And with my own two hands!" He sank into incomprehensibility for a while, but eventually his pitiful wailing formed back into words. "Over what? A bit of money? A few thousand? God, I'm a monster!"

"You're right," Tak said coldly. "You should take your own life before you hurt anybody _else_ you care about." There was that spark again.

"You're right…"

"I AM right."

"I should…"

"You MUST."

The Huntsclanner pointed his sword's tip at his own chest, but it wavered and dropped. "I can't do it… I'm too weak."

Tak frowned inwardly. _Not as weak as you think you are._ Outwardly, her face remained passive, and she said, "That's alright." She put a comforting hand on the sobbing man's shoulder. "Let ME do it." Again, the spark.

The man's hands shook and tears fell from his eyes as he handed her the sword. "Would you?"

"Rest in peace."

---

The last group of Huntsclanners, a foursome of nearly identical men with tall, slim builds, wandered down a hallway. "Nothing," one of them said again as he peeked into an empty room which was little more than a broom closet. Just to be sure, he blasted the single barrel in the small room with his staff, but it was filled with apple cider, which began leaking onto the floor. "Nothing," he repeated dejectedly. "We always get the empty way when we split up, don't we?"

"Wait a minute," another said, raising his hand. They stopped, and he suddenly turned and brought his toe up into the crotch of a third member, a bow-wielder. The man was barely able to stand, and the second man was easily able to grab the bow and push the man to the floor. "When we split up, there were only three of us." The first, third, and fourth Huntsmen's eyes widened as they realized the implications of this. "We have a chameleon in our midst," the second concluded, "Or at the very least, a master of disguise."

"W-wait," the third groaned, clutching his wounded balls, "How do you know it's me? Maybe it's one of the other two."

The fourth raised his axe against the first. "S'not me. How d'we know is'not you?"

The first raised his staff defensively. "So, what, it's me just because the rest of you give your words? You bastards, my word's worth as much as yours!"

"Those sound like fightin' words," the fourth barked as the second looked on in concern.

"Wait," the first said suddenly. "Our mark! The Mark of the Huntsclan is exclusive to the Huntsclan, and an outsider wouldn't know about it! Show your marks, and we'll flush out the traitor!" He bent over to take off his boot, revealing a reddish birthmark of an Eastern Dragon spiraling around his ankle. The fourth opened the front of his uniform, showing a similar dragon winding from the left side of his stomach up to his collarbone and the base of his throat. The third removed his left glove, revealing the end of his mark on his palm. Everybody turned to the second… who rolled up his sleeve, revealing a dragon encircling his right bicep. "I don't understand it… could it just be paranoia?"

"The Monsters are Due on Maple Street," the third said, his breathing still pained and uneven. "We're all real Hunstclan, and they're pitting us against each other somehow, trying to get us to turn on each other." The second hung his head in shame.

"Naw, this isn't no Maple Street monsters," the fourth argued. "This, fool, this's Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up? One of us really is an outsider, and he's just real clever disguised-like, ya'know? And I intend to find out who." He brandished his battleaxe, cyan lines and green orbs standing out on the bright blue blade and handle.

"Wait…" The third Hunstclan member raised his hand, struggling to his feet. "Hang on, just… HANG ON! We all brought weapons, right? The guy who kicked me… he had no weapon except my bow." This revelation was greeted immediately by another kick from the second, in the solar plexus this time, and the man dropped against the wall. The fourth Huntsclanner barely had time to raise his axe before the second fired a plasma arrow at him, by luck catching him in the eyes. The fourth screamed and stumbled back, and the second dropped his bow and wrestled the fourth's axe from him, bringing it down hastily and messily on the fourth's own skull.

"You… you bastard!" The first fired a charged burst of concentrated plasma through the second 'Huntsclan' member, ripping a clean circular hole through his stomach. It didn't even slow the imposter down, and he easily leapt forward with a plasma-enhanced axe strike that cleaved the first one's weapon arm off. Still acting like he hadn't been wounded at all, the second spun on his heel and separated the first's head from his body.

"What…" the third bounty hunter wheezed. "What are you?"

"I am Envy," the second said, and he began to change. The Huntsclanner with the hole in his stomach dissolved in arcing lines of electricity that passed along his body. The hole filled, the man shrank a bit, clothing changed to bare skin and hair grew outward. Soon the second had revealed himself to be an androgynous teenager with long blackish-green tendrils of hair that stuck outward and a bit down. He wore a red and black outfit, consisting of a headband, short shorts, a midriff-bearing shirt, fingerless gloves and toeless, heelless socks. His eyes were cold and inhuman, and he had a distinctly sinister aura about him. The axe he still held didn't help either. "I know, aren't I just _adorable?"_

"Why… why'd you take the shape of one of us, if you could just kill us like this?"

"I liked your form. I _wanted_ it. Besides, I needed one of your weapons, and it was so fun to just watch you ready to tear each other apart. You were quite clever, singling me out for being unarmed, and so was your friend who suggested the birthmark. I had to wait until you three had gone so I could make sure the one I made was right. Which reminds me…" he took his axe and removed the third's left arm below the elbow with a quick chop. The man screamed, but didn't bleed; the plasma had cauterized the wound. "I want THIS too. I'm sure a lot of people will be happy to learn about this neat secret birthmark."

"My… my arm… my birthright…"

Envy turned and bared his left leg to the Huntsclan. "Actually, I've got a neat secret birthmark too." He pointed to a black tattoo on his thigh, a winged serpent encircling a star of David. "But mine's a little different, and I don't think it would've convinced you. Mine gives me powers, though, so I bet you're jealous." The third was no longer listening, merely blubbering to himself with the occasional whimper about how far in over his head Envy was. "You're no fun to talk to anymore." Envy lifted the third Huntsclan's chin, and pulled his axe back.

**End of Chapter**

**For those who didn't know, Ami and Yumi are from the **_**Hi Hi Puffyamiyumi Show,**_** Train and Sven star in **_**Black Cat**_** (and I only know the manga, so that's the influence here), the Huntsclan (no named members of which appear here) are featured in **_**American Dragon: Jake Long,**_** Finch and co. are from a graphic novel series called **_**I Luv Halloween**_**, Beast Boy and Terra are from **_**Teen Titans**_** (the animated series), Omi is from **_**Xiaolin Showdown,**_** Chad is from **_**Bleach,**_** Reuben's from **_**Lilo and Stitch,**_** Tak is from **_**Invader Zim,**_** and Envy's from **_**Fullmetal Alchemist **_**(again, manga version). Later chapters, naturally, will introduce less characters. This is an AU, but characters have as much of their origin stories intact as reasonably possible. Envy is still probably an artificial human; whether he's from a conspiracy to empower and overthrow Amestris is less likely.**

**If you disagree with my casting, feel free to express your opinion, but please be civil and eloquent. I'm always open for criticism.**

**Oh, and be sure to check out my new tournament, A Winner Is Two, if you want to pit your writing against others' for glory and prizes!  
**


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